The Errand

This is from book two of my series, The Last Troll. Enjoy.

He had been busy. Very busy.

Randulf had been given new responsibilities at the stables. His mother had constant errands too.

As busy as he was, as much as was on his mind, there was one constant in his thoughts.

Signy.

He missed her.

He worried about her.

He lov...

... he felt very strongly about her.

The last time he saw her was when his father nearly killed that dog in front of everyone. When his father forced Signy to reveal her secret.

Now everybody knew she could talk to animals.

She ran away and hadn’t been back since.

Randulf desperately wanted to see her again.

He wanted to know that she was okay.

And if it wasn’t okay, he wanted to tell her it would be.

The smell of food was in the air. Lamb.

Randulf stepped inside expecting dinner. What he got instead was another errand from his mother.

There was a comb in her hand. It belonged to his oldest sister.

It was the most excited he had ever seen her, but she looked nervous too. It was like her face couldn’t decide how to be.

His mother reverently handed the comb to Randulf.

“It’s time. It’s finally happening.”

It took Randulf a moment to figure out what was happening.

A comb? What was so special about a comb? The comb of his oldest sister?

It hit him all at once!

She was going to get married!

According to custom, once the families were in agreement, a personal possession, most often a comb, was delivered to the groom’s family. This token, this small piece of herself, would be a part of her new family before the wedding.

Randulf looked at the comb. Really looked at it. It was made from bone and was well polished.

His mother closed his hand over the comb.

She whispered, “this is only the beginning. Someday someone will bring a comb for you too.”

He nodded.

“Take this to Ulf and Runna. It is for their second son, Tym.”

Randulf knew Tym. He was a few years older. Like the other boys, Tym had teased and bullied Randulf.

Randulf hoped he would treat his sister better.

He had better.

Randulf opened the door, then turned around before leaving.

“I-I-I’ll b-b-b-be b-b-b-back s-s-s-s-soon.“

The door closed behind him.

The hearty aroma of the evening meal lingered in the outside air.

Randulf was hungry. He really did mean to be back soon.

The sun had moved below the trees but had not set yet.

Randulf kept a brisk pace through the Okstjin and down the lane to Ulf’s farm.

The village was empty. Everyone must have been inside with their families.

He fidgeted with the comb, shifting it from calloused hand to calloused hand, unsure how best to carry it. His fingers had become accustomed to pitchforks and shovels and ropes. Holding something so delicate and small felt strange.

As he neared the farm, he thought back on the day he and Signy first met. Ulf’s farm was where he brought her family to trade on their first day in Fjoll.

That was the day she gave his cap back.

So much had changed since then.

Randulf approached the door. There was fighting inside. Ulf and Runna always fought. Everyone knew that. He knocked, hoping they might hear it over the shouting.

The shouting did not stop.

Randulf readied himself. There was more to this errand than simply handing off the comb.

He needed to speak.

Randulf hated talking, but he would do anything for his mother and his sisters. Even speak.

The door flew open without warning.

Ulf stood in the doorway. His face was red and sweat dripped down his cheeks.

Runna was close behind.

Randulf cleared his throat.

“I-I-I-I c-c-c-come t-t-t-to...”

Runna stepped closer to join her husband at the door.

Randulf could tell from their posture and their expressions that they were getting impatient. He wished he could get the words out quickly, but he just didn’t know how.

“...y-you w-w-w-w-wi-wi-with th-this c-c-c...”

“Comb,” interrupted Runna. “Yes, we see it.”

Ulf followed up with, “Is this about Tym? He and your sister?”

Randulf nodded. Yes or no questions were easy. He could answer without opening his mouth.

He held the comb out, and Ulf took it and stood for a moment until Runna elbowed him in the side.

“Ah yes. We, uh, accept this comb... token... and welcome your sister into our family.”

Ulf seemed almost as unsure about his words as Randulf had been.

There was an awkward pause. No one spoke or moved.

Finally, it was Ulf who broke the silence.

“Is that all?”

Randulf shrugged his shoulders.

Runna grabbed the door.

“I think we’re done here. Tell Finna... I mean your mother we’ll see her tomorrow.”

With that, she slammed the door in Randulf’s face. It nearly hit him in the nose.

From behind the door, Runna yelled, “Tym! You’re getting married!”

“What?!,” came a muffled reply.

“You’re - getting – married!”

Then Randulf heard something he likely wasn’t meant to. Through the door, he heard Runna whisper to her husband.

“Which is more than I think we’ll ever say for Finna’s poor boy.”

Ulf laughed.

Randulf had heard worse. Much worse.

Things like that stopped hurting a long time ago.

Or had they?

He turned and slowly walked away.

He would prove them wrong. He WOULD get married. He hoped he would get married. He knew just the girl.

Signy.

Lost in thought, his feet lead the way. Surely, they knew where he needed to be.

His stomach rumbled.

Signy.

Was she having her evening meal? What would it would be like to share a meal with her?

He pictured her face. He imagined that she put a spoon to her lips then blew away the steam before sipping some broth.

His mother’s words echoed in his head.

Someday someone will bring a comb for you too.

If that someone wasn’t Signy, he wondered if he could refuse.

There was no one else. How could there be?

With his family, Randulf spoke when he needed to.

Signy was the only person he WANTED to talk to. She waited. She was patient. She never interrupted. She never spoke over him.

Not even his mother did all of that.

His feet kept moving. Surely, they knew where he needed to be.

Step after step, Randulf thought about how brave she was. He thought about how confident she made him feel. He thought about how she told him about her day. He thought about how she asked about his, and how she listened.

She actually listened to him.

He thought about her smile, about her orange hair against a cloudy sky, about her freckled nose, about...

Randulf stopped.

Something was off.

He had been walking on dirt. Dirt roads and dirt paths.

Photo by Charlie Green on Unsplash

His feet had taken him to something, to someplace new. He was standing on something solid.

He looked down.

Stone.

Where was he?

He heard the sound of rushing water.

Oh. Oh no. He knew this place.

He looked up.

Randulf was on the stone bridge.

He was in the haunted forest.

The giant, gnarled, and twisted oak tree loomed on the far side of the river. That thing gave him the shivers.

There was something else there, too. It was in the place where he had watched his father fight and scream when the night animals attacked him.

There was a large mound of earth.

A large mound of earth with eyes.

A large mound of earth that was looking at him.